After the incident at Vindra Island, the Freebone crew sailed north, following Juno's directions toward a place that "wasn't on any regular map, but every sailor knew about."
They arrived at night.
The island… was floating. Literally.
The Floating Island of La Brisa, a massive trading city, stood atop a giant metal raft anchored to the seafloor with iron chains as thick as ancient trees. From afar, it looked like an illusion: surrounded by colorful lights, random fireworks exploding with no clear rhythm, and flashing billboards advertising strange things like:
"Authentic Kraken Satay! (Hands Guaranteed Safe… maybe)"
"Ship Candy! Tastes Like Rusty Engines!"
"Lightning Tattoo Service: 10 Minutes or a Snake Pops Out!"
"Leech Fighting Pit! (Bring Your Own or Bet on Local Favorites!)"
Bastien stood on deck, mouth slightly open. "This place... is amazing," he muttered.
"Is this... heaven?" Arthur stared at a stall selling meat skewers the size of a toddler's leg. "That skewer's bigger than I was at five!"
"If this is heaven, it smells really fishy," Bastien said, sniffing the air filled with the aromas of grilled squid, burning charcoal, and occasional whiffs of old machine oil seemingly coming from a giant cauldron at the edge of the market.
"THIS IS IT!" Juno yelled, leaping off the ship onto the dock so hard the planks groaned in terror. "THE PLACE WHERE PIRATES AND THEIR STOMACHS BECOME BEST FRIENDS!"
Without hesitation, he grabbed Nara—their ship's ever-stoic cook, always seen with a worn-out headband—and dragged him into the crowd.
"I don't want to join any competitions," Nara mumbled quietly.
"You're joining!" Juno replied enthusiastically, hauling him like a sack of rice.
"Alright..." Nara surrendered without much of a fight, though he muttered, "Hope their judges can handle spicy food."
Meanwhile, Arthur nearly slipped into a pile of live oysters that, somehow, seemed to be... staring at him.
"We need to be careful. Some of the food here might bite back!" he said, backing away slowly.
Bastien chuckled as he read a crumpled flyer pinned to a dock post. "Oh look, there's a crazy music show, an open joke-duel, and... a staring contest with a hundred-year-old turtle."
Arthur blinked. "A turtle?"
"A turtle."
"What's the prize?"
"A free bowl of ramen and the locals' respect."
Without a second thought, Arthur marched off determinedly. "That's more than enough!"
La Brisa was a living anomaly in the middle of the ocean. No fixed laws ruled here, except for one simple rule posted everywhere:
"No bloodshed allowed. Unless you're caught stealing pants—that's a different matter."
This island was a perpetual celebration of organized chaos. Pop-up festivals erupted on every street: speed-eating contests where participants had to devour grilled octopus without using their hands, weird costume races featuring outfits stolen from unsuspecting tourists, and even a dolphin-leech parade cheered like it was the grandest event on Earth.
At one square, Bastien and Arthur passed a small stage where two burly men hurled insulting rhymes at each other, followed by roaring laughter from the crowd. Nearby, there was a small arena where children battled—not with fists, but by flinging raw fish at one another.
"This is… absurd," Bastien said, dodging a flying mackerel.
"But I love it!" Arthur cheered, eyes sparkling as he tried to catch a fish to join the battle.
In another corner, there was an instant tattoo festival. Participants had to draw random tattoos from a gacha machine. Sometimes you got a cool dragon; sometimes... a crowned flip-flop. Nara ended up trapped there, his expression unchanged even as his left arm now sported a startled-looking snail tattoo.
Meanwhile, Juno entered a fiery broth eating contest—a boiling soup that had to be finished in one breath. He almost passed out but proudly placed fifth.
"This is a crazy night," Bastien murmured, leaning against the wooden dock railing, watching the lights dance across the water.
And the night was just beginning.
They ate, they laughed, they challenged the ancient turtle (who, for a turtle, was surprisingly intimidating), and even helped an old man repair his mini hot-air balloon—which promptly went out of control, carrying three goats into the sky.
For the first time in a long while, the Freebone crew genuinely enjoyed something simple: Freedom.
That night in La Brisa, the violent, bloody world they knew seemed to vanish for a while, replaced by absurdity, laughter, and a salty fishy smell that somehow… felt like home.